


Be-Bop A Lula

by a_xmasmurder



Series: 221B's and Drabbles (Multi-Fandom) [14]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond - All Media Types, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Handjobs in the office, M/M, Rockabilly, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_xmasmurder/pseuds/a_xmasmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bond discovers that the only way he will ever listen to rockabilly is if Q is singing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be-Bop A Lula

**Author's Note:**

> So, this happened:  
> [baby singing be-bop](http://professorfangirl.tumblr.com/post/83042433759/childliketendencies-baby-singing-be-bop-a)
> 
> And my brain sort of went HOLY BABY JESUS Q SINGS.
> 
> I make no excuses or apologies.

The sounds coming out of the Quartermaster’s office weren’t the normal ones that James was used to. As he got closer, he could make out the strains of what sounded like old-school rockabilly, something he’d thought he’d never have to hear again. After hearing it constantly for a week straight from Alec’s internet radio, he wanted to throw the computer out of the window of the flat that somehow the three of them were sharing, now that he and Q were somehow dating and Alec moved in on his own accord. He shook his head as one of the technicians scuttled past. “I take it Q’s in a good mood?”

The man stopped. Stared at James. “Uh. Yeah.” He scuttled away, leaving James wondering why everyone was still afraid of him. It’s been a couple weeks since the incident with the laptop and let’s be honest, Q’s got one hell of a punch so throwing laptops in fits of pique wasn’t going to happen again. James pulled up outside the office door and grimaced. _Yeah, that’s rockabilly, and one of the songs that had me nearly pulling out my hair in frustration._ He could already feel the urge to stab Q’s computer as he rounded the corner and -

James halted. Not just his legs, or his arms, or even his body in general. No, everything halted. His brain, lungs, gut, nerve endings...all of it switched off. He blinked.

It wasn’t a computer playing the music, it was a record player. Q was in the middle of his office, on the fluffy carpeting, mouthing the words along with the singer as he rocked his head to the beat. _Don’t tell me he actually likes this music? I thought he’d be more of a Owl City or American Authors fan. But rockabilly? I’m in hell._

James grinned and leaned against the door frame, not letting his distaste show. “Didn’t know you liked this shit.”

Q whipped around as if he’d been shocked. “Jesus, James, you scared the daylights out of me! Please make noise like normal humans.” He had one hand to his chest and the other wrapped around a biro, panting like he’d been running a marathon.

James pushed away from the door and stepped into the office, ready to go over and turn the player off. Then he stopped. He stopped because there was no vocals on the record track. No one was singing. He stared hard at Q and listened in case he’d come in on a vocal break. No, there was no vocals at all.

Q’d been _singing_. That had been his voice. James squinted. Blinked. Tried to process that Q sounded a little like Carl Perkins. A little. Only worlds better, because where the _hell_ did he fit that voice?

“Is there something wrong, James?”

James surged forward, grabbing Q by the lapels of his cardigan and grinned. “Do it again.”

“W-what?” Q caught James by the arms and held him. “What are you talking about?”

“You were singing.” James grinned even more as an adorable blush spread up Q’s neck and blossomed over the high points of his cheeks.

“I...um. Yes.” Q nodded. “I was.” He closed his eyes.

James couldn’t wipe the grin off his face if he tried. “It sounded good.”

“You said it was shit.”

James was taken aback. “No! No, I didn’t, I -” Then he noticed the shy smile tugging at Q’s lips. “Arsehole.”

“I know you don’t like it. The music, I mean.” He looked down at his feet through the bracket of James’ arms. “So I don’t really indulge in it at home. But I…” He swallowed. “I like to sing. And since Alec started listening to it, I’ve found that I am pretty good at it.” His blush got worse. “So I sort of started singing here. On breaks. Great stress relief.”

James moved his arms from Q’s lapels to his shoulders. “It sounds great.” He pressed his lips against Q’s brow. “You sound great.” He pressed them to Q’s nose. “Perfect.” He stepped away, and Q swayed towards him, humming uncertainly. James turned and shut the door to Q’s office. He looked at Q again, sure of the expression on his face by the way Q’s seemed to light up.

“Sing for me.”

Q’s face did a few interesting things before he turned to his record player. “Vinyl. I like vinyl because the sound quality is better.”

“No, you like it because you are a closet hipster.”

Q snorted. “Am not.” He flicked the arm back to the middle of the record. “I am not a hipster. I don’t do it because it’s the thing to do, I do it because I enjoy it.”

“Then sing.” James felt like he was giving an order. Maybe he was. But when Q opened his pretty mouth, James was still completely blindsided by the strong voice that seemed to roll from the smaller man’s gut out through his mouth. It matched the ones James heard on Alec’s hated tapes and CDs - no, it was better than those because instead of coming from slicked hair and snarled lips on a track, it was coming from an unassuming skinny man with bed head and spots and tea stains and sharp fingers with even sharper wit.

He was really glad he'd shut the door, because he really couldn’t be held accountable for his actions.

Q had closed his eyes, so he startled when James grabbed him around the biceps and lifted him onto his desk. “James, what the h- ?” His squawk was cut short by James’ hot mouth pressing against his with an urgency they’d yet to discover. Their relationship was new - three weeks new, in fact - and Q’d been tiptoeing around the whole thing. James could tell, mostly because of James’ reputation and long list of conquests, and some small part of insecurity, of ‘I’m not his type, why is this happening’. And to be honest, he’d been having the same thoughts. But now? No question in his mind. None.

Q was perfect.

James explored with hands and lips, finding what made the smaller man twitch and moan and groan and whine. While Q was a quiet man in everyday life - a good thing, to be sure - he was proving to be a very vocal partner in more carnal pursuits. Not loud, no. Loud could get them in trouble. No, Q was quietly losing his bloody mind under James’ ministrations, glasses pushed askew and lips parted in bliss as James mouthed along the sharp tendon along Q’s neck. His long legs hooked around James, one behind one knee and the other further up on his hip; his arms rucked James’ shirt up so that he could smooth lightly calloused hands along tan skin.

“Oooooh, _James_. James.” Q hummed contentedly in James’ ear and licked. “A bit - oh!” He yelped when James nipped just under Q’s jaw. He took a breath and James grinned like a madman. “All a bit fast, yes?” He spoke as fast and low as he could, his voice reaching a pitch that had James aflame.

“Not a bit,” James growled and nipped again, making Q squirm under his hands. “Not one bit. Problem?” In the back of his mind, he thought that if Q wanted him to stop, he would. God, it would make him postal, but he would stop. But he would wager Q wouldn’t make him -

Q slid off the desk in the moment of inattention and pushed at James with both hands. “Yes, I have a problem.”

 _Oh, shit._ James grimaced, thinking that it’d be another night of nameless blondes for him…

Q pushed harder, and James found himself backed against the dark cherry-paneled wall, Q’s hands laid precisely and perfectly over each pectoral. “My problem is that you have entirely too much clothing. Get that damned jacket off, and I’ll sing for you all night.”

James stopped breathing entirely. “Jesus.”

“Not quite, but close.” Q smirked and drew light fingers over his own shirt, flicking buttons open while giving James the come hither stare he’d been waiting for for quite possibly his entire life. “Mmm. Didn’t think you wanted this.”

“Can’t stop now,” James purred, frantically trying to breathe while shedding layers. “It’s just getting interesting.” His jacket hits the floor with his shirt, and Q’s hands find their way to his chest again, resting on skin and making James’ nerves tingle. The wall was cool against his bare back, and it became more noticeable when Q stepped forward again and pressed his bare chest against his. Heat blossomed between them, a conflagration that ignited when they met for another kiss, one that blew the first out of the water. There was no exploration, no question of intent, no hesitation or worry. Pure passion and lust drove their actions now, hands rough and determined as they pushed more layers out of the way and opened buttons and wrapped around erections that seemed to beg for attention. James growled low into Q’s red mouth, and Q responded in kind, pushing James harder against the wall as he slowly jerked James. His hips rolled and pressed against James’ thigh and hand. Their breaths left their lungs in hitches and gasps, and Q squeezed his eyes shut and quivered.

“Shit, going to - James, please please _please!_ Please…” He whined and jerked hard once, twice. James’ eyes widened at the warmth spreading in his gut at Q’s helpless pleading and the wetness spilling between them, sliding against his too hot hip. Q let out a reedy gasp and slumped, his sweaty forehead resting on James’ collarbone. His hand, though, kept up the pace, kept the heat building in James, and when he got his breath back Q started to talk. “C’mon, James. Bond, _come on_ , please come for me, want to feel you, _please_ …” The same pleading tone, but an octave lower - _My baby, my baby, my baby_ \- “Come on, baby, come for me…”

That did it. James’ vision whited out and he was certain he said something as he came all over Q’s trousers and hand, but it was lost in the white noise in his ears.

When he’d come down from Andromeda, he wrapped his arms around Q’s shoulders and grinned into damp, pale skin. “That was amazing.”

Q hummed in agreement. “Fast, but I’m not worried. We’ve all night, after all.” He pushed away and straightened what he could of what was left of his clothes, and James resisted the urge to pull a cigarette out of his jacket pocket. “Have a smoke?”

James laughed. “I wasn’t going to, but…”

“I disabled the detectors in here. Wasn’t hard, if Boothroyd could do it.” Q smirked. “So, you like my voice?” He took the offered cigarette and procured his own lighter out of his trouser pocket.

“I do.”

“Well, then I should mention that I do a spot of modern opera too.”

James nearly dropped the cigarette. “Well, there goes my known refractory period.”

 


End file.
